


Mein Student

by tanynova



Series: Writer's Shed [3]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Character Development, Gen, Not RELATIONSHIP but a dynamic, Retelling, So Schumi can't stop improving, Teacher-Student Relationship, ummmm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:07:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanynova/pseuds/tanynova
Summary: Nico have never had a teammate worse than Michael. As it turned out, there was a reason for it.
Series: Writer's Shed [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022457
Kudos: 3





	Mein Student

**Author's Note:**

> SO
> 
> I rewatched like millionth time a video #999 where Nico was telling stories of basically what a shitty teammate Schumi was (e.g. that time when he couldn't use the toilet pre-quali). THEN I relistened Nico's podcast with Danny Ric where he shared that Schumi had his wall aka a guard against others' influence by habit - he didn't need to think of it, but Nico had to learn the same thing (especially considering 2016 and how much he had to learn to ignore, practically speaking he didn't have enough mental strength, and he built it on - at least i understood it and used that idea in the fic). And these two situations created 4 pages of nonsense by me. 
> 
> No clue who might like this - but enjoy (:
> 
> Twitter - @_tanynova_

Nico was pissed.

Both mentally and almost literally. Tired of banging on the toilet’s plain door he sighed, rubbing his tensed bridge of the nose with reddish from strain fingers. You must be as empty as possible before qualifying. Especially Monaco, where track’s cruelty for less than the finest qualification is at its highs. However, at this point distraught Nico was dangerously close to not having any qualification run.

He slammed the door one last time, truly believing he saw some indentation in its material. 

“This might be one of the most embarrassing things in my life,” Nico dropped, speaking to himself. And then proceeded to take some sort of a bucket. He held hope he wouldn’t see a cleaning person picking it up.

As if a delayed and therefore obsolete miracle descended on young German, the door in question opened sternly and swiftly, letting older German out, who seemed completely unaware of the scene occurred just on the other side.

If we were lucky enough to have a look at irritated and now slowly becoming furious Nico, we might’ve seen a tomato dressed in white.

Of course, Michael would run away like that, his exit calculated to the very second to, Nico was guessing, simply spite him most weirdly. In fact, that was simply the way Michael was tuning into a qualification mode, according to numerous yellow pages. Nico didn’t get it.

Yet there was another event which he was obliged to share and which he loathed almost more than this forsaken yellow bucket. Conferences. The ones where you spend a painfully long time, sitting in the 7-times-German-world-champion’s shadow. He wouldn’t even open a bottle for you, the stubborn cap of which would make an embarrassment of you. Why was he like this? Nico didn’t get it.

And don’t even mention the ads! Nico eventually came to the conclusion that Michael actually is an actor rather than a driver, because the way he would put on a relaxed, laid back figure and inviting frame in this “restaurant”, “accepting” champaigns bottles seemed real. However, it couldn’t be; the moment cameras went lifeless the older German practically spun in 90 degrees and sprinted away, leaving the younger one musing about why would anyone working with this person say anything positive about any part of the experience. Nico truly did not get it.

Until one evening.

Every worker held an average white cup with some sort of a generic drink poured in on a retirement party. Nico glanced over it, thinking he might want something stronger. The seasons with Schumacher always peeking from behind - at least it felt this way - were exhausting. He almost felt guilty for feeling this relieved seeing a renowned legend leaving the autosport behind in his life. Speaking of which, where is he? During social events he was the one to accumulate as many people around him as possible, Nico recalled reluctantly.

“So, thank you, team, see you next year!” The blond waved at the rest of the party slightly awkwardly, weak alcohol still having come kick.

Once he closed Mercedes’ motorhome door, a German in a white cap framed by little red stars turned his head towards him. Nico was taken aback by this direct attention, having being used to an avoidant and indifferent treatment. Not only that, now the retiring racer was approaching him and two bottles flickered from artificial lamp lights of the paddock, tan hands holding them skillfully. Nico could only brace himself, more unwilling than anything.

“Wanna have a drink?” Michael managed to pull off a bit stiffly, clearly having something on mind.

“Why would I, no I don’t.” Courage took over Nico at this point, mixing with tiredness and overall annoyance.

“Wait, Nico.  _ Please. _ ” He felt a subtle stopping hand on his long-sleeve. 

“Fine.” He accepted the bottle and followed Michael.

***

A bottle’s cup whispered its last “psst” and Nico took a swig. Good German lager; Nico mused whether it was chosen by Michael.

“So,” the man in question coughed somewhat uncertainly. “It’s funny because I don’t know how to start this-”

“How come your teammates liked you?” cut off Michael’s words.

“Sorry?”

“You’re a shit teammate! I didn’t even feel like a shadow, I felt like I didn’t exist for you during these couple of years. Like, seriously, do you always ignore banging on a toilet door like that?” Nico was mentally questioning myself had he ever said so much to Michael before.

“I usually am! With you it was different. You see, I’m leaving the sport and I saw you drive. You’re unbelievably fast but there’s no mental strenth behind...” Michael trailed off slightly, trying not to sound like a condescending father.

“Wait, what are you implying?” Nico was partially irritated, being addressed like a child yet interest was prevalent.

“I just wanted to show you how bad of a teammate you might be pared with. And for that, you must prepare.” The older German resolved the silence from his side by taking a sip, waiting for a response.

“But… Why?” 

“I owe Mercedes a lot. I wouldn’t have been here hadn’t they paid my way to F1. And you’re quick. You really are. You two paired together look like a winning combo in my eyes.”

It would be stupid to assume that 10 minutes talk with someone you were close to hate is capable of turning your perspective of the whole upside down… But did Michael bloody Schumacher just say that he, Nico Rosberg, is  _ quick.  _ It didn’t make sense.

“...But what did you say about mental strength? I’m not spineless.” Despite having flushed frame from truly unexpected compliments, Nico couldn’t let a comment slip.

Michael turned towards him, eyes directly pointing at his now anxiousace. Nico physically shrivel up, feeling the other’s eyes almost scanning him.

“I said that you’re quick, which is true, yes, but that shouldn’t show up on you like it does now. This smug and a faint shock in there, I see it all. And the best rival sees it all, Nico, you need to hide it when it matters. To sometimes blatantly ignore. Remember the ‘bucket’?” His lips stretched into teasing and joking smile. 

Nico opened his mouth several times, searching for an answer and having none. Nico started getting it.

“And all those countless interviews when you ignored me… It was all intended for me to learn?!” He raised his voice, having his whole view of those years shattered.

“Well, yes.” He fidgeted almost, knowing how ridiculous the concept might be.

After noticing the bottle empty, he got up and reached for a pocket of his jacket.

“It’s probably weird for you to hear, but here’s my contacts - I’m willing to continue helping you ‘behind the scenes’” 

Still slightly dumbfounded Nico accepted the card after getting up himself.

“Wow, um… I don’t know what to say. Thank you?” 

Michael chuckled like a that annoying teacher, who likes to get out a reaction from a student. He looked at the time.

“Good luck, mein Student.” was an equivalent of goodbye from him.

Nico saved Michael’s phone number to contacts.

The card till this day remains on his home office desk.


End file.
